I Don't Know

I've gone back and forth in my head for weeks about writing this post, and then Bob Goff told us on Sunday that we all need to "stop acting cool!" and if anyone can light a fire under you and make you actually do something you've only been thinking about doing, it's Bob Goff, must open Blogger and must type and must get this off my brain and must tell everyone, Bob Goff.

And in typical Bob Goff style, let's preface this with a story.*

Several months ago, I met a new mom friend at the park, as one regularly does when you're a woman mainly conversing with a toddler all day long and then you see !another adult! Our kids instantly zeroed in on each other from across the swing set and within no time we had exchanged numbers in the hopes of future meet-up double date play dates.

A couple public outings later and we were ready for the next level in our relationship: THE play date. At home. Her home. (I just re-read this and it sounds more and more like an OkCupid exchange...welcome to: Making New Friends in Your mid-20s, 101).

We had initially bonded over our general appreciation for health, natural childbirth, and other surface hippiedom. Maybe I mentioned my batch of Fire Cider in the fridge or Bean's delayed vaccine schedule or impassioned love of Pamela's chocolate cake (even though I'm not even GF in the slightest) or numerous dry Tina Fey-isms, but for whatever reason, we hit it off and now the Bean and I were pulling up into the driveway of their house.

Thirty minutes later, eating a batch of tapioca quinoa cranberry muffins with the smells of sage and homeschooling in the air while the kids played with yarn balls, cardboard, and wooden sticks I had to wonder how I actually ended up here.

Five minutes upon arrival, the Bean had rolled the one and only wooden truck across the floor and then politely inquired where the other toys were. I simultaneously wanted to curl up in the fetal position, grab the three Hot Wheels cars in my purse, and laugh at how funny a toddler playing with a yarn ball is. Like a cat. We had an afternoon of playing with cat toys ahead of us.

Overall, we lasted about an hour and a half. And we covered the alternative lifestyle gamut. No mention of those oils. Thank goodness. Obviously, because we make our own.**

As I said goodbye, I felt energized and drained at the same time.
It's interesting spending time with someone so definitively passionate on one side of things. This way is the only way, side of things.
Had she driven off other friends before with such a polarized view?

We haven't corresponded since.
Perhaps due to pesky winter colds, traveling, holiday seasons, and maybe deep down she could see how much I was craving some gluten.***

...


Growing up, my role in various friendship circles was "peacemaker." I like to gather everyone up, include anyone, and you can call me Bonnie "Can't We all be Friends" Iliyn.
I've never understood cliques. I tried to be apart of one once during a Valentine's dinner at the Old Spaghetti Factory, and failed miserably. Or succeeded greatly, because the girl we tried to gang up on is one of my closest friends to this day. How can you exclude someone, just because they're different than you? If I wanted to surround myself with people just like myself, I'd probably turn into Miley Cyrus with all that nodding and yes-ing and you go girl-ing and you should definitely wear that outfit-ing all the time.

My circle of friends is a widespread tapestry of personalities, viewpoints, ideas, talents, and beliefs. I can eat at a vegan restaurant with one and Burgerville with another. Dont lie, deep down you love that special sauce too.
McDonald's. Muchas Gracias. IHOP. I will eat green eggs and ham, (during my time in Rwanda, I think I did). I actually could care less sometimes the what or where. I'm way more interested in the who. The important questions instead of the distracting details.

In no way am I implying that we have to be friends with everyone, (says the girl who used to save mice from our cat Brutus, and has cried way too many times during Oreo commercials, cause I'm the Grinch who's heart grows three sizes...every day), or that we shouldn't have loud and proud voices.

When someone is really up on their social media soapbox though, (about things that really don't really matter), then, "Yeah, well, you know, that's just like, your opinion, man," says my inner Lebowski. You can call me Bonnie "Agree to Disagree" Iliyn****

I can't tell you how many many maaaaaaany people of "influence" these days are sitting on this seemingly "authority" pedestal. How many many maaaaaaany people are they driving away with their need to be right? Sure, we all might know some things, but are we wise about it? Big difference.

It's just another clique I don't want to be a part of. I'm bad at being a part of it.

I guess I'm not cool enough to be a part of it.


xoxo

{Bon Bon}



*You should most definitely read "Love Does."

**Sarcasm aside, I do, and have for awhile, but I'm not into the whole selling trendy bragging thing that's a part of, oh geez, just keep reading.


***Just a recent, vague example that I could use. No harm, no foul. Like I said, my friends vary across the board. We have many things in common and those other pesky little things, who cares.


****Unless we're talking about certain justice issues, especially involving adolescents. Then I might join the pitchforks. Kids, man. It can't all be rainbows, butterflies, and kumbaya. Sigh.